Earnie's
                Obsession 
                by Don Drewniak 
                Ernie Lapinski
                had a problem. More properly, he had a slew of
                problems. One of them had become an obsession
                that ultimately cost him his marriage. During his
                sophomore year in college, he walked into his
                dorm room and found his roommate in bed with his
                (the roommates) girlfriend and her sister.
                Ernie froze for ten, perhaps fifteen, seconds
                before backing out of the room. 
                The image of
                the threesome came to haunt him. 
                Time passed.
                He married a year after graduating. The marriage
                did nothing to erase the image. It remained with
                him day and night, especially when sexually
                engaged with Margaret, his wife. He dared not
                broach the subject with her as she was quite
                conservative. 
                By mutual
                agreement, they fortunately decided against
                having children. Five more years passed. Ernie
                was twenty-eight, and it was then that his
                obsession was exposed. He had gone on a weekend
                fishing trip with two male co-workers. Margaret,
                as she did once every week, went into his closet
                to pick up dirty clothing that he had a habit of
                tossing onto the floor. While gathering the
                clothing, she knocked over two cardboard boxes
                that had been stacked on top of a third box. 
                What is
                that? Margaret mused as she saw a black
                handle protruding from behind the floor-bound box.
                She grabbed the handle of what was a briefcase
                she had never previously seen. Hmm. 
                It was
                unlocked. Curious as to the contents, she opened
                it. There were over three dozen sketches on plain
                white paper. Most were landscapes, one of their
                apartment building and one of her  nude.
                What the hell? she blurted out. 
                Margaret knew
                her husband was capable of quality sketching as
                he worked as a graphic designer. 
                But why
                the secrecy? Why the one of me? 
                She brought
                the briefcase and the sketches into the kitchen
                and arranged them on the kitchen table. Minutes
                later she placed her hand into one of the two
                flaps inside the cover of the briefcase. More
                sheets of paper. 
                A wave of
                dizziness and nausea swept over her as she looked
                at the first of six sketches. Three naked bodies
                on a bed  Ernie, her, and one of her
                sisters. The other five depicted the three of
                them in positions that caused her to momentarily
                pass out. Upon regaining consciousness, her shock
                and revulsion turned to fury. 
                With the help
                of a female friend, she rented a U-Haul truck and
                cleaned out all of her possessions. After taking
                photographs of all six threesome sketches, she
                left five on the table and kept the sixth, the
                one she considered to be the most vile. 
                Hello,
                Mom, Im coming home. 
                Divorce was
                settled out of court four months later with
                Margaret getting the lions share of
                everything they possessed, including their one
                vehicle. 
                Fast forward:
                Ernie was depressed. He was pushing thirty and it
                was one year to the day from when his wife
                discovered his sketches. 
                Here I
                am alone on a Saturday night watching crap on
                television, he thought. Might as well
                go out and get drunk. Who knows, maybe Ill
                get lucky. 
                He headed out
                to a nearby bar and was working on a third drink
                when he noticed a hot-looking (or what he
                visualized as being hot-looking in his semi-inebriated
                state) mature woman sitting alone at a corner
                table. She also appeared to be well on her way to
                getting intoxicated. 
                Must be in
                her late fifties or maybe early sixties, but damn
                she looks hot. Why not? 
                It crossed his
                mind that she just might have a hot-looking
                sister. His obsession, fueled by the alcohol, had
                increased in intensity and irrationality. 
                Ernie walked
                over to her table and asked if he could join her.
                To his delight, she said yes. They chatted while
                having two more drinks each. She admitted to
                being sixty-one. 
                But a hot
                sixty-one. 
                They were in a
                taxi shortly thereafter en route to her house.
                With the alcohol having totally loosened his
                tongue, he told her about his threesome fantasies. 
                Oh,
                she whispered while snuggling up against him and
                kissing his left ear, That is a great idea! 
                Ernie was
                ecstatic. He paid the driver as the taxi pulled
                up to the front of her house. 
                As soon as
                they passed through the front door, she called
                out, Mom, are you still awake? 
                
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